


Civil Offence

by Steerpike13713



Series: Nerys Ghemor AU [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode s03e07: Civil Defence, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Identity Issues, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steerpike13713/pseuds/Steerpike13713
Summary: Having been tried on Bajor for her part in the Occupation as a spy for the Obsidian Order, the individual formerly known as Kira Nerys' return to DS9 is complicated by the sudden activation of an old Cardassian security system and the sudden arrival of Gul Dukat.





	Civil Offence

Nerys had not been back on the station an hour before something went disastrously wrong. Strictly speaking, she shouldn’t have been in Ops at all, except that Commander Sisko had wanted a report on what her status now was with the Provisional Government and Nerys had been looking for an excuse to avoid Tekeny- _Legate Ghemor_ a little longer. The last time they had seen each other, the day it was finally confirmed that she had been born Iliana Ghemor, she had screamed at him, and wept, and stormed against the injustice that she was, in some obscure sense, her own murderer. That had been before the trial, before the nearly three weeks in seclusion from everyone but her legal counsel, breathing in Bajor’s air and knowing that, whatever happened, this would be the last time she ever tasted it.

The walk to Ops had been bad enough. She had been aware every moment of the feeling of Bajoran eyes on her. And what had they seen? A Cardassian woman, dressed as a Bajoran and with a Bajoran earring in her ear, Kaleen’s silver bracelet gleaming at her wrist. A _mockery_ of a Bajoran, Nerys would have called it if she’d had the sight described to her a month ago. She’d seen the same sentiment in the eyes of every Bajoran she’d passed on the way to Ops, hadn’t even begun to think about what she or Tekeny would do for a living, now her rank and commission had been stripped away – worse, had been ruled as having never really been hers to begin with. She was not even an exile, she was…a ghost. Iliana Ghemor was dead on Cardassia, Kira Nerys was dead on Bajor, so what exactly was there left for her, the leavings of both? And then, when she’d reached Ops, Sisko wasn’t even there, having gone to inspect the refurbishment of the old ore processing facility.

Jadzia had looked up as she stepped into Ops, and stood. “Major Kira! Or- No. I’m sorry.” She looked down, apparently slightly ashamed. “I don’t know what to call you.”

Nerys shrugged, “It doesn't matter – I can’t imagine we’ll be allowed to stay on the station much longer.”

“I fail to see why not,” Doctor Bashir put in from across the room, “If _Garak’s_ been allowed to stay, you and your- you and the Legate shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“He isn’t wrong,” Jadzia agreed, and laid a hand on Nerys’ shoulder, making her ridges flare a little at the shock of it, the _warmth_ that emanated from every finger. How long was it now since Nerys had been warm? “Commander Sisko would speak for you, if you asked. He’s been following your case as far as he can from up here.”

“Thank you, but what would I do if I weren’t here?” Nerys glanced around Ops. “I’ve been military one way or another all my life-” All the life she could clearly remember, anyway. She pushed aside the fragmented memories of an art academy on the northern continent of Cardassia Prime, of the social whirl of the capital and happy summers spent at Lake Masad. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, now that isn’t an option.”

She had expected the doctor to butt in again, unwanted, and say something like ‘what, not running off to become Gul Ghemor on us, Major?’ that would give her an excuse to snap at him and relieve some of the nervous tension that had been humming under her skin since she stepped off the runabout and onto a Deep Space Nine that was no longer her own. Instead, when she looked around at him, he was wearing the same carefully neutral look he had done during the second medical consultation to determine her species, just over three weeks ago now.

Jadzia nodded, and for a moment Nerys couldn’t bear the look of sympathy on her face. She hadn’t said what she did to elicit _pity_.

“Has the Provisional Government said anything about who's going to replace me as first officer?” she asked, mostly for a change of subject.

Jadzia shook her head. “New Bajoran liaison officer, but no word about their doubling as first officer. I think they were expecting Commander Sisko to bring it up, but…”

“So who is?”

Jadzia shifted. “Me, actually, until we can work something else out.”

“They’ve had almost a month!” Nerys broke off before she could launch into a rant about the absurdity of it all. It wasn’t technically any concern of hers, but…still, three weeks in which to make the arrangements and they still hadn’t managed it, even knowing that there was no way a known _Cardassian_ would be able to continue serving in the Bajoran Militia and Nerys would inevitably be asked to leave Deep Space Nine?

They were, of course, cut off around then when Gul Dukat’s face popped up on every screen in Ops, and his voice echoed around the room. How very typical of Dukat, to leave something like that up to an automated computer programme and then ‘forget’ to remove it before the Cardassians cleared out. Maybe he’d hoped someone would set it off earlier, and wipe out the whole station without his having to lift a finger. Short-sighted, overconfident, careless-

“Ops to Sisko?” Dax said, as soon as the message had finished playing. “Commander, what’s happening down there? Gul Dukat’s message seemed to be aimed at you in particular.”

“It was. It seems we’ve tripped some kind of automated security program the Cardassians left. We’re locked in.”

“Any idea how you tripped it?” Dax asked, giving Nerys a faint, almost apologetic smile.

“Jake found the file on one of the Cardassian monitors down here. Attempting to delete it seems to be what set it off.”

“Ok, we’ll beam you out of there-” Nerys turned, only to stop dead as the computer demanded an access code. “What?”

Doctor Bashir, up on the next level, glanced up, “If this security programme thinks there’s been some kind of workers’ revolt, then it must think this station is still under Cardassian rule. So it’s probably waiting for us to enter an emergency code.”

“Which, of course, they ‘forgot’ to give u- give you when they- when the Occupation ended,” Nerys muttered. ‘Us and them’ had been a lot easier a month ago.

There was another chime from a combadge. “Odo to Ops.”

“Kira here,” Nerys replied automatically, and then stopped, and cleared her throat. “Never mind.”

“Nerys!” Odo stopped. “I thought you lost your commission.”

“I did. I- Never mind. I shouldn’t even be in here-” Nerys shook her head. “I should go.”

She heard Odo clear his throat over the coms. “As you say, Major. My Cardassian access codes are still valid. I’m attempting to override the security programme, but it’s going to take some time. I’m not sure my clearance level is high enough.”

“Ok, keep trying. We’ll do the best we can from up here.”

“Acknowledged.”

The transmission cut off, and Nerys let out a breath. She wanted, more than anything, to stay and do what she could, but at the same time, she had no legal right and the young Bajoran officer in command maroon manning the other console was already looking mutinous just having her in the room. Not that Nerys could really blame him for that – if _she’d_ had to put up with a Cardassian in Ops during an emergency-

“Don’t go,” Dax said quickly, “We need all the help we can get right now.”

Nerys nodded, desperately relieved. “I can take the coms for a bit, leave you free to look at the problem,” she suggested. It was probably the least objectionable job she could do at this point, and the last thing she wanted now was to make any further trouble for the Commander after what help he’d offered with the trial. It had been the Emissary’s word more than her war record that had swung the trial in her favour, she knew, and what that had cost him she did not want to calculate.

“I have an idea,” Dax said, crossing the room, “I don’t know how well it will work, but it’s better than nothing.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then:

“Well, what are you waiting for? You’re in command here, aren’t you?”

There was little enough Kira or Bashir could do, it seemed. Really, the best person for a job like this would be Chief O’Brien, which…naturally, he’d be trapped down in the ore processing unit with no way of helping anyone. Nerys rubbed her eyes. She was in no mood for this – she was space-lagged and tired and wanted nothing more than to go back to her quarters and sleep, except that she didn’t _have_ quarters right now. Hers would have been reassigned while she was being tried – she wouldn’t have returned at all except to debrief Commander Sisko and say goodbye before trying to figure out exactly what an exile from both Bajor and Cardassia was supposed to do in the universe.

“If we can bypass the primary command pathway…” Dax was saying now, still as if she were reporting in to Major Kira, which…another pitfall of having one’s former commanding officer in Ops. Nerys knew the habit, but that didn’t make it any less of a danger sign.

“Warning,” the computer piped up now, “Workers have escaped from Ore Processing Unit Five. Initiating station-wide counter-insurgency programme.”

The support struts flared scarlet, the alarm screeched, and Nerys’ eyes flicked to the doors as the security plates slid over them, boxing them into Ops.

Doctor Bashir spread his arms in exasperation. “Now what?”

The answer to that seemed to be ‘Gul Dukat pontificating’, and for a moment Nerys was struck with another of those awful double-echoes – her first taste of kanar, this same voice droning on somewhere in the background, bright eyes in a smoke-grey face – only to be jolted startlingly back to herself with his last words.

“Ops to Sisko,” Nerys said desperately. “Ops to Odo. Ops to- _anyone_!” She threw up her hands and turned to Dax, “We’re cut off, I can’t reach anyone.”

“There must be some kind of general dampening field in place,” Bashir said from over by the door, “It must be disrupting communications.” He glanced up at Nerys. “I…I don’t suppose you remember anything, do you? A code or- or a passphrase from…before.”

Nerys bristled, and shook her head. “Most of what’s managed to slip through has been…personal. Childhood memories, favourite foods, that sort of thing.” She shook her head, and frowned at the door. “What I _do_ know is the less subtle approach.”

She picked a phaser off the console, and approached the door. “Doctor.”

Bashir was many things, but stupid was not one of them. He backed away so fast it might, under other circumstances, have been comical, just in time for the phaser beam to hit the control panel and send it up in a blaze of sparks.

And then, of course, it turned out there was a force-field set up on the other side.

“The Cardassians don’t miss a trick, do they?” Bashir said, dismayed, looking from Nerys to Dax and back again. “So, what now? If we can’t get to the rest of the station…”

“If we can regain control of the main computer, we may be able to wipe the security programme from its memory,” Dax said, and at least she wasn’t looking at Nerys now. Dax was, whether Nerys liked it or not, in command now, and the sooner she realised that the better. It was galling, to be able to do nothing but stand by the useless ops table as Jadzia went down to examine the workings more directly.

Bashir huffed out a breath, “You know, I’ve been here nearly three years, and I was just finally starting to think of this place as home.”

Nerys gritted her teeth. “I’m pretty sure you already _have_ a home, doctor, and it’s not here.”

Bashir was from Earth, the very heart of the Federation, and he could return there any time he chose. Whereas Nerys…well, she'd been exiled from two worlds now, and both of them had their hooks in her.

“You would think that,” Bashir said shortly, and did not elaborate. “Jadzia, is there anything we can do?”

Jadzia paused for a moment. “No, I don’t think so,” she said, and went back to work, and Nerys could hear, unspoken, ‘not unless the Major has any titbits she’d like to share from her Obsidian Order days that might help’. But Nerys could hardly process the fact that there had _been_ Obsidian Order days – could hardly fathom it at all, most of the time. What she remembered about being Iliana Ghemor was little enough – moments, days, sudden flashes of insight that came at inconvenient moments and left her reeling, and none of them had painted a picture of what had led her to the Order. The latest memory she had was- She’d been fifteen, sprawled out on her stomach on the deck of a boat and trailing her fingers in the water to see phosphorescence blaze scarlet against her scales. It was hard enough, sometimes, to credit even those memories as hers – perhaps it would have been easier if she had remembered training, hardship, recruitment, those were things she could believe in. Perhaps that was why the only memories that had yet returned to her were of things so far outside her experience she could hardly imagine they had happened at all.

She could feel, once again, the militia officers’ eyes on her, from where they were still at work on the consoles. Was she imagining the accusation in their faces? It was, she knew, an illusion that her scales were itching – she’d shed in solitary while awaiting trial, and hated the way her guards snickered at her inability to get the damn things _off_ – and if she’d still been herself, her _whole_ self, she’d have snapped at them, but the more flashes, the more of Iliana Ghemor that slipped through her defences, the more she was constrained.

Still, something kept gnawing at the back of her mind, something just out of reach. That was nothing new – there were whole sections of her mind that she was aware of now, and that were barred to her – but something about this one felt urgent. If she were designing a counter-insurgency programme, and been paranoid enough to go this far-

“Dax, can you-”

She was too late – a scream and a shower of sparks and Doctor Bashir was scrambling down to the lower level, nearly barking out a demand for a medkit. It was fortunate for all of them that there was one on-hand, because with Ops blocked off like this- It didn’t matter. Jadzia’s hands were bloody and blistered when Kira leant over to hand Bashir his medkit – second-degree burns, from a small force-field which- How thorough had Dukat _been_? She could hardly call him paranoid, under the circumstances, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating.

She hardly had time to wonder before another security update was coming through, and then Dukat’s voice, in all its pre-recorded smugness.

“Attention, Bajoran workers! Your failure to surrender is forcing me to take stronger measures. In five minutes, we will begin pumping neurocine gas into the Habitat Ring. Think of your families as you consider your course of action. All Cardassian personnel should evacuate the area immediately.”

 _No,_ Nerys thought for a moment, stupidly, desperately. _Not yet, I haven’t-_

“Habitat ring,” she said instead, “There have to be hundreds of people trapped in their quarters out there-” She cut herself off with something close to a snarl, her throat closing up. She wasn’t in command here any longer, was only in Ops to finalise her discharge from the service – a useless bit of formality but one that had felt, at the time, necessary. Now- She was useless here, worse than useless, and her father was in the habitat ring and they’d had less than a week to get to know each other before she handed herself over to face justice on Bajor for all that she had done to the planet she still thought of, first, as home.

“I believe that’s the point.” Kira’s hearing was duller, now, than it had been, and it had never been especially brilliant, but she knew Garak’s voice when she heard it, and the sight of him in the doorway was no surprise. Rather more startling, though, were his next words: “Computer, access code: Garak one-three-five-nine.”

The force-field flickered and dissipated, and Garak stepped through, smiling insufferably and so casual one would think he’d simply gone for a stroll through the Promenade and found himself at Ops by chance.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” he said, offering Dax an infuriating shallow half-bow that made Nerys want to growl at him, “The only place in the galaxy that still recognises my access code is a Bajoran space station.”

“Which means, you can pass through the force-fields,” Dax said, nodding.

Nerys leapt in, “Well, that’s one problem solved. If we- if you send Garak and his codes to the habitat ring, we can at least start the evacuation. I don’t know how many we’d be able to get out in less than five minutes, but-”

Garak raised a brow-ridge. “I’d like nothing better than to help my loyal customers,” he said, in a tone that tickled uncomfortably at parts of Nerys’ mind that were still foreign to her. “But it’s not that simple. My access code enables me to move about the station, but unfortunately, as you've just seen, the forcefields reappear the moment I pass through a doorway.”

“Have you tried using your code to shut down the security programme?” Bashir asked, straightening up from where he’d been attending to Jadzia’s injured hands.

“Several times,” Garak replied, with a thin, wry smile, “But for some reason I can’t _begin_ to fathom, Gul Dukat chose not to trust me with his top-level security codes during the occupation.” He flashed another insincere little smile around at the lot of them, and Nerys glared at him.

“And you never tried to figure them out for yourself?” she demanded.

Garak’s smile froze on his face. “I did,” he said, “More than once. Unfortunately, again for reasons _quite_ beyond my understanding, Dukat grew rather paranoid not long after my arrival on the station, and began changing his codes more often – as regularly as three times a week, towards the end.”

“Garak,” Bashir cut in, “Do you know a way we can stop this neurocine gas?”

Garak gave this a considering little tip of the head. “The only way to do that is to destroy the life support system.”

Nerys swore under her breath, and saw one of the techs jump slightly at the sound – gutter Bajoran from a Cardassian-looking face, she’d seen the guards outside her cell do much the same during some of her outbursts.

“That’s exactly the way Dukat would set it up,” she muttered, “Cut off the gas, cut off the air – everyone loses.”

“We could always surrender,” Bashir suggested, “Or pretend to – Garak, would your codes work for that?”

“Alas, no.”

Dax shook her head, “We can’t destroy life support,” she said, “We’d be signing everyone’s death warrants – just a bit later than expected.”

“That still gives us twelve hours to re-take the station or arrange evacuation to Bajor,” Bashir pointed out.

“Believe me, Lieutenant,” Garak cut in, “It’s the _only_ way to save those people.” He craned his neck, “I believe life support is controlled from over there?”

Jadzia paused for a moment, then nodded and held out a hand to Nerys. “Phaser, please?”

“I can-”

“I know. But I’m in command here, so I should. If this goes wrong…I can’t hide behind not being the person who did it. Besides,” she added, with a wry smile, “We only just got you back. If we live through this, I’d hate to see what the Provisional Government would make of you shooting out the life support.”

Nerys had to admit the sense in that, even if she didn’t like it, and if she slapped the phaser a bit too hard into Jadzia’s hand, Dax showed no sign of it as she aimed at the life support panel, waiting only for the militia officers manning the console to hurry out of the way before she fired, sending the whole thing up in a flurry of sparks.

That there was a level three ought to have come as no surprise – every other level they’d managed to get around had had some nasty surprise or other lurking in wait – but that didn’t make the computerised voice or the sudden appearance of Dukat’s face again on the monitors any better.

“My fellow Cardassians, I regret to inform you that Bajoran workers have gained control of this station. In all likelihood, I am dead, or otherwise incapacitated. But rest assured, this station will not be allowed to remain in Bajoran hands. However, it is my duty to inform you that if you do not regain control within two hours, the station will be destroyed.”

Nerys hardly heard the self-destruct sequence come online. She was glaring at the image on the screen now, and if Dukat had been there in the flesh she would cheerfully have throttled him then and there. Bashir looked at Garak, who seemed every bit as unnerved as the rest of them.

“Didn’t predict this, Regnar?” Nerys said acidly.

“Not…quite this soon,” Garak admitted, his eyes flicking to the screens.

Dax glanced at him, “Can you access anything on the consoles?”

“I certainly can – the difficulty will be in effecting any changes once I have. Still…I can make the attempt.” Garak paused theatrically. “With your permission, of course.”

“You have it,” Dax said shortly, “Find a way to shut down that self-destruct sequence. I can-”

Bashir interrupted. “You won’t be able to do anything with those hands for a while yet – let me have another look at them.”

Nerys paced back and forth like a caged hara cat, wishing this were a problem she could shoot. Once again, useless, and her mind- She was in much the same boat as Garak, and from what little the Legate- yadik- _Tekeny_ had told her or that she had surmised during those awful days on Cardassia Prime, Iliana had been far less senior in the Obsidian Order. Her clearance codes, even if she remembered them, would be even less use than his. Something, still, was niggling in the back of her mind, something…vast, and formless, and so faint it was gone every time she tried to come at it directly.

There had been a party, and kanar cut with kamoy syrup, and a lot of adult conversation she hadn’t been especially interested in. She’d been…what, fourteen? Fifteen? She couldn’t remember. What had she been doing there? Drifting from exhibit to exhibit at – it had been a museum of some sort, hadn’t it? Or a government building? Something had happened that night, something important – now if only she could remember _what_.

She dragged herself back to the present with a heroic effort of will, to find her nails, grown longer and sharper in captivity than she had been used to keeping them, digging into her grey forearm so hard that they had left white, livid marks on the scales.

“Any luck?” she asked, turning to Garak.

“Plenty,” he said, not looking up from the console, as Bashir came around to look over Garak’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, all of it bad.  My personal code can activate any terminal on this station. However, that’s the extent of my access. All I can do is just…look around. I can tell you exactly what’s going on, but I can’t do anything about it.” He made a face somewhere between terror and disgust, and Nerys could hardly grudge him that response. “As far as I can see,” Garak went on, “The only person who can disable the security programme is Gul Dukat.”

Dax nodded, and stood. “Maybe there’s a way to fool the computer into thinking that you are Gul Dukat. You could try re-writing things so your code registers as his.”

“Wouldn’t work,” Nerys said, almost without thinking about it, “Genetic scans are standard-issue for military terminals throughout the Union. Just checking species at the lower levels, but for something like this it’d take a full gene-scan.”

She knew, from the way Dax and Bashir were looking for her, that they believed that to be from her- from Iliana’s training. In fact, the memory had come from earlier than that when, at five, she had tried to turn on the Legate’s at-home terminal using a code she’d seen once in passing, and gotten a harmless but painful electric shock for her troubles. She wouldn’t bet on the consequences here being anything like as benign.

“So we knock out the sensors in Ops, make it so the computer can’t scan you,” Dax said, with a sharp nod. “Would that work?”

Garak looked up, and that same smile crawled back onto his face. “What a creative idea. It certainly is worth a try.”

“The question is,” Doctor Bashir put in, “Can we disconnect the sensors without anyone else getting hurt?”

“I wouldn’t put money on it,” Dax said.

Nerys looked at her, “We might have to take that chance,” she said warningly, “And – if it’s one of us getting injured or all of us and all of our- and everyone else on the station dying, I’d take the injuries.”

“All right, then. If someone whose hands are still in working order could switch the sensor input from the primary scanners to the back-up, that shouldn’t register as a threat but it’ll blind the system for a few seconds – Garak, will that be enough for you?”

Another falsely reassuring smile. “If it works, a few seconds are all I’ll need.”

Dax nodded. “Good…uh, Major, I’m going to need a-” Dax stopped, tipped her head, and Nerys was quite pleased by the shift in her face then. “Never mind that. Nerys, with me, please.”

The ‘please’ was a bit much, Nerys had to admit, but it was at least an improvement.

She’d known her way around Cardassian systems long before all of this happened, and so it was nearly reassuring to kneel down next to the terminal and start work, still cautious in case another of those little force-fields that had caught Dax came up here, too. It shouldn’t, but the prospect of being left with only Garak and the doctor in any state to do anything wasn’t one she liked the sound of. Still, this wasn’t a job there’d been much call for in her Resistance days – generally, if Kira was up to her elbows in a Cardassian computer system, the intent was to cause as much damage as possible, not precision work.

Dax was a little surer in her command here, in her own area of expertise, or one of them, and anyone could follow orders. Granted, most of Nerys’ old commanders – the resistance ones, the ones she remembered – had disagreed with her on that front, most particularly about her own abilities in that area, but she’d never listened to them then and she sure as anything wasn’t going to start now.

“All clear this last month?” Nerys asked as she worked.

Dax paused for a moment, then made a so-so gesture. “Something happened the week after you left for Bajor. Quark bought some salvage from the Gamma Quadrant, which turned out to mean a baby Jem'Hadar.”

“Bought a- How does that even-” Nerys shook her head. “I always imagined them hatching out of eggs, somehow.”

“Because they’re reptilian? That’s a bit-” Dax stopped. “I’m sorry. Too soon?”

Nerys shook her head. “No. Besides, Cardassians do. I…I still can’t think of them as ‘we’. It kept tripping me up at the trial.”

“No-one’s asking you to – no, the other wire.”

Nerys gritted her teeth, and made the correction. She didn’t _want_ to be Cardassian. But Bajor had washed its hands of her. She tried to pray to the Prophets, but they were of Bajor and she- She had spent ten years thinking she was fighting for Bajor, to bring it into a better world, and now she found she’d been acting against it the whole time. She had been a traitor – not even a traitor! An enemy agent, inside the gates. How many of those near-misses had been real? How many traps, how many deceptions, how many missteps had she caused for the Shakaar without her conscious knowledge? She ought to rejoice at her exile, she ought to be delighted at the thought that there was one less Cardassian polluting Bajor. To grieve the loss was almost a betrayal in itself, and wasn’t that the most _Cardassian_ thing she had ever thought? Even her loyalty to Bajor was polluted now, and what was she without that?

“I know it was overwhelming when I was first joined,” Dax said quietly, “Not that this is the same thing, but…suddenly doubting which of your thoughts, which of your feelings were really yours, and trying to trace them back, and then finding you couldn’t, because-”

“Because I don’t even know which of mine really happened and which were fabricated by the _Cardassians_!” Nerys snapped. “ _You_ at least have that much reassurance.”

Dax seemed to be about to snap back when Garak interrupted.

“Lieutenant, how much longer before you can disable those sensors?”

Dax glanced around, her face smoothing out. “Oh, at least another ten minutes.”

“I’m not sure we have that much time. In fact,” Garak added, almost wincing, “I’m sure we don’t.”

Almost prophetically, the computerised voice spoke up again. “Warning. Unauthorised use of command code. Initiating counterinsurgency programme level four.”

Nerys glanced up, wondering what fresh nightmare Dukat could conceive of that was worse than destroying the whole station and everyone on it.

There was the hum of a replicator coming online, and – there was something round and metallic in the replicator tray. Nerys hardly had time to look at it before it shot a beam of white-gold light over her head, forcing her and Jadzia under the console and bouncing off the bulkheads as more beams shot out. Nerys heard a strangled cry from somewhere over by the defunct life support system, and twisted around to see an officer in Starfleet command red jerk and fade away as the beam hit him. The beams seemed to be coming almost at random now, but if she was fast-

Nerys bolted, flattening herself against a support beam and quite surprised that she was alive to do so.

“There’s a phaser on the ops table!” she called across the room. “Can anyone get to it?”

There was the sound of rough breathing, the hiss of another beam being fired, a flare of sparks, and then Doctor Bashir’s voice from across the room.

“The answer, Maj- The answer is no!"

Nerys nearly growled. “Well, we can’t stay here and do nothing!”

“I respectfully disagree!” Garak called back from over by the terminal he’d taken cover under, just outside Nerys’ line of vision, “Nothing is about all we _can_ do!”

Another sound, now, and Nerys had to strain her ears to hear it, the softer humming note of a transporter in use.

“Let me guess,” said a horribly familiar voice, and Nerys bit back a groan. “Someone tried to duplicate my access code, hmm?”

“Dukat?” Dax demanded, unnecessarily, just barely poking her head over the terminal and ducking underneath again. “What do _you_ want?”

“A short time ago,” Dukat said, and Nerys could _hear_ the oozing smugness in his voice. “I had a very strange experience. There I was, patrolling the Demilitarised Zone when I received a distress signal…from _me_ , or at least a recording of me. It seems the Bajoran workers were rioting on Terok Nor.” He laughed. “I must admit, it piqued my curiosity…” he stopped dead, and there was a long, uneasy silence. “I see,” he said at last. “The autodestruct programme has begun. Well, well, well…you _are_ in trouble. Where’s Commander Sisko? I trust he wasn’t vaporised while asking for one of those raktajinos he’s so fond of.”

“No,” Dax retorted, “Last we heard, he was trapped in the ore processing unit.”

Dukat hummed. “I wish him well.”

“Well, can you help us or not?” Bashir demanded from under the table.

“Oh, most certainly,” Dukat agreed. Nerys still couldn’t see him, but she’d had enough experience with Dukat’s style now to picture his expression. He’d bleed them for everything they had if they let him. “All I have to do is enter my command code and shut down the programme.” Another sound now – had he clapped his hands or hit the replicator? And- Was he _actually_ walking around with that thing firing at everything within range?

“Any reason in particular why you aren’t?” Dax asked.

“All in good time, Lieutenant.” A pause, and then. “I’m surprised not to see Major Kira. Is she trapped in ore processing too?”

There was a long, awkward pause.

“Dead? What a pity. Well, in that case-”

“I’m right here, Dukat!” Nerys snarled.

“I’m very glad to hear it, Major. It seems there are a few things we should discuss. Red leaf tea, please.”

Nerys ground her teeth as she heard the hum of the replicator, that odd double-echo in her head still tickling at the edges of her consciousness, making her head ache.

“ _Doctor_ ,” Dukat said warningly, apparently apropos of nothing, and there was a soft yelp.

“What do you want, Dukat?” Nerys demanded.

She could almost picture his smug face now, and wished she were in a position to put a phaser slug between his eyes where it belonged. “You’ll find I don’t react well to that tone of voice, Major.” There was a sudden, surprised bark of laughter. “Garak, grovelling in a corner. That alone makes my trip worthwhile.”

There was a loud cry from Doctor Bashir: “Garak!”

“Easy, Doctor. It would appear that the computer is only targeting non-Cardassians.”

For a moment, Nerys almost didn’t grasp how this applied to her, but then she twisted to look around the support strut, to see Dukat’s face twist in disgust.

“If you had been on the station when I designed this programme, I would have made an exception in your case.”

Garak, still standing, smirked. “Well, you’ve always been short-sighted. It’s held you back over the years.” He tipped his head. “As I recall, your father had the same flaw.”

“My father’s only flaw was trusting _you_ ,” Dukat snarled.

“Funny,” Garak said, “At his trial, your father said his biggest flaw was that his ambition outweighed his patriotism.”

A matter of weeks ago, that sentence would hardly have struck Nerys at all, but now she heard it in Kardasi. There was no word, in Kardasi, for ‘patriotism’ as such. Or rather, the word the translators registered as ‘patriotism’ meant so much _more_. It was, put bluntly, the very heart of what a Cardassian _was_. Nerys almost wished she didn’t have that knowledge, that she didn’t know, to the core of her, that what Garak had said had, in centuries past, been a killing insult, and why.

“Garak, is this really the time?” Dax demanded. “Dukat…start talking.”

Dukat looked around, no doubt to issue another command, but then his gaze fell on Nerys and his expression turned predatory. “Well,” he said. “What is this, another half-breed war orphan whose case needed deliberating on? Well, it doesn’t matter,” he went on, hardly pausing for breath, “Major Kira, why don’t you join me in the commander’s office, where we can talk in private?”

He turned without waiting for an answer, then paused theatrically. “Oh! I forgot, the replicator.” He crossed over to it, and pressed a few buttons on the sphere’s side. “Well, it’s the least I can do.” The device melted away to be recycled. “You can all rise now. You’re safe.” He raised his mug in a mock-toast. “For the moment. Major, if you will join me…”

Nerys watched Dukat’s retreating back disappear into the commander’s office, and turned to Dax.

“You should go,” she said, “I’m not even officially part of the crew here anymore-”

Dax shook her head, looking pained. “You heard him. He wouldn’t even have stayed to negotiate if you weren’t here. Besides…” she smiled. “I’d rather like to see Dukat’s face when he learns you had no right to offer him any concessions, and so he won’t be getting any.”

Slowly, Nerys grinned back, showing teeth.

Dukat looked up as the door slid open to admit Nerys, and then stopped dead. “I specifically requested Major Kira,” he said, in a low, dangerous voice.

“And here I am,” Nerys said shortly. “Or didn’t you hear about this mess yet?”

Dukat’s neck-ridges flared, and Nerys tried not to shudder, knowing what that meant. “Well, well, well…Major, I must say this is…surprising. I trust Bajor has not been thinking of engaging in retaliatory attacks, or infiltration, because I do have my doubts about how effective such a route would be on Cardassia.”

“Wrong way ‘round,” Nerys said shortly. “Can we move on, there’s not much time.”

 Dukat smiled, almost playfully, and leant forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You aren’t Kira Nerys.”

“No,” Nerys said flatly. “I’m not. Kira Nerys died ten years ago.” She watched, with a little, vicious stab of satisfaction, as the smile slid off Dukat’s face. “But I’m the Kira Nerys you’ve had to deal with for all of those ten years, and that _is_ what you asked for. So…start talking.”

It was almost a pleasure, to see Dukat so thoroughly thrown. “If I’d known that this was being planned…” he said.

“You’re claiming you’d have raced to my- to her rescue? Or…” Nerys paused as his ridges flared again. “I know what you did to other Bajoran women in your custody. Death was probably kinder.” She sat back. “We haven’t got time for this. Either talk, or I’m going to try and find a solution. Between me and Garak, that’s two of us who can deal with that thing if it’s brought back online.”

Dukat puffed himself up, “And yet both of you were hiding behind terminals and pillars when I arrived,” he said coldly.

“You said you had terms,” Nerys nearly growled. “What are they?”

Dukat leaned – lolled, Nerys thought – back in Sisko’s chair, and flicked the commander’s baseball, sending it rolling off the desk. “Nothing outlandish. Just...a Cardassian presence on the station.” Nerys opened her mouth and he raised a reproving finger. “A _proper_ one. A few of my men will suffice.”

Nerys snorted. “You _know_ I’m never going to agree to that.”

For some reason, Dukat had the nerve to look _puzzled_ by that. “Why ever not? Major- Pardon me, what _is_ your real name? Surely, you'd feel more at home with more of your own people here. Being surrounded by Bajorans must be difficult, for a woman in your position."

Nerys glared at him. “So far as I’m concerned, _you_ aren’t my people. Garak and-” she almost said, ‘and my father’, but thought better of it, “And I are more than enough Cardassians for Deep Space Nine already.”

“Don't tell me you prefer that _tailor's_ company to mine,” Dukat said, resting his hand on his breast in a pantomime of shock. “You wound me, Nerys. I thought we understood each other better.”

Nerys jerked back, “Understood-! I would prefer _anyone’s_ company to yours!” She forced herself back under control. “And if you think the Provisional Government would accept a deal made between two _Cardassians_ as a valid reason to allow such a-”

“So,” Dukat interrupted, “You _do_ think of yourself as Cardassian, then?”

Nerys nearly spluttered. “I- I can’t exactly say otherwise, can I?” she demanded, waving a hand at her grey, scaled face, her ridges, her chufa. “And to the Provisional Government, that's all I am. One more _Cardassian_ oppressor-”

She stopped. She had said too much, and from the widening smile on Dukat’s face, he knew it too. He stood, and prowled around the desk to lean close and say, almost in her ear, “I hope, after remembering the truth of Cardassian life, you’ll come to understand a little more of what we are trying to _do_ here, Nerys.”

Nerys twisted around. “I saw enough of _that_ during the Occupation!”

“You still don’t understand,” Dukat said, with a pitying little shake of the head. “Well, it doesn’t matter. You will, in time. And as for the Provisional Government…I don’t expect them to be _happy_ about it. But, once my troops are in place, I think they’ll find it very difficult to get them to leave.”

“Well, let me put this another way,” Nerys said, drawing herself up. “I will destroy this station before I ever give it back to the _Cardassians_.”

Dukat smiled widely. “Are you including yourself in that rather ostentatious declaration, Major?"

“The station isn’t mine! I was handing in my resignation when your little security programme disrupted things, or I wouldn't be here now!” Nerys threw up her hands. “But yes, if I have to die to keep it out of your hands, I will!”

Dukat leaned in. “Now, _that_ sounds like a true Cardassian. Everything for the good of the state, even if it means a thousand deaths.” He drew back a little to look at her, a faint smile on his lips. “The only difference is that you've confused _which_ state should have your loyalty.” He pushed himself back as Nerys spluttered, incoherent with fury, and made for the door. “I’ll let you think about it, hmm? We still have a little time left. Thirty minutes, in fact. But remember, unless you were a member of the Central Command in whatever life it is you had before you were Kira Nerys, I remain your only hope of saving this station and the two thousand Bajorans still living here. Unless, of course, you are willing to spend their lives for them.”

For a moment, Nerys didn’t grasp it, but then- Oh. _Oh!_ Well, wasn’t _that_ an idea. She followed Dukat out into Ops, and leant out over the main level, a smile spreading slowly across her face.

“Garak?” she called, making him startle and look up from the terminal. “Your security codes will let you into the habitat ring, yes?”

Garak nodded, “Yes, Major, but I fail to see…”

“Good,” Nerys said shortly. “We need a Central Command code to bypass this, if Gul Dukat won’t do anything. I’d like you to find my father.”

The look of absolute puzzlement on Dukat’s face would have given her no end of amusement under happier circumstances, but she had no time for that now.

Garak’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and he smiled and gave a mocking little half-bow. “As you say then,” he said brightly. “I’ll go.”

Dukat was looking from Nerys to Garak as if they’d both lost their minds. “Find- Is this a joke, Nerys?”

“I’m entirely serious,” Nerys said, and grinned savagely. “It looks like we won’t be needing _your_ assistance after all.”

Dukat stared at her. Doctor Bashir, behind him, asked, “Are you sure he’ll be able to get back here? Garak’s code only works for him, I thought.”

“ _Garak’s_ does,” Nerys agreed, and exchanged a look with Dax.

Dukat, beside them, was nearly boiling over now. “I don’t think you realise the true extent of your problems! Lieutenant, even if the Major – ex-major, I suppose, now – is willing to let everyone on this station die for the sake of her…grudge, or her desire to prove herself a Bajoran in spite of all the facts-”

“Nerys – you’re sure this is going to work?” Dax said in an undertone.

“If Garak’s codes still work, why not? And…between him and Dukat, I’m pretty sure on who the better option is.”

Dukat huffed out a breath, “Your insistence on trusting that tailor is increasingly baffling to me,” he said moodily. “You do know his previous career? Earning a person’s trust and destroying them with it was his stock in trade for years before his masters found other uses for him.”

“I think we’re all quite aware of what Garak is,” Doctor Bashir said shortly. “And since he lives here too, we can assume he doesn’t want the whole station going up in flames.”

Dukat gave the doctor a contemptuous look, and looked around at Nerys. “I’ll be back,” he said coolly, “In, say, twenty-five minutes?” He tapped his communicator. “Dukat. One to transport. Energise.”

Nothing happened.

Dukat tapped it again. “Energise.”

A viewscreen flickered to life, and Legate Kell’s face filled the screen.

“Dukat, if you are seeing this recording, it means you tried to abandon your post while the station’s self-destruct sequence was engaged. That will not be permitted.”

Dukat huffed. “This is _outrageous_ -”

“You have lost control of Terok Nor,” the recorded Kell continued, “Disgracing yourself and Cardassia. Your attempt to escape is no doubt a final act of cowardice. All fail-safes have been eliminated. Your personal access codes have been rescinded. The destruct sequence can no longer be halted. All you can do now is contemplate the depth of your disgrace, and try to die like a Cardassian.”

The screen flickered out again, leaving the room still, every eye on Dukat, who looked for a moment like a vole in a trap, his tongue flickering out to drag air over his s’oc as if anticipating more neurocine gas. That wouldn’t be their fate, though. Would Garak’s codes still work? How far had he got? Into the Promenade, almost certainly, but would that be enough?

“Well,” she said, with grim humour, “Legate Kell seems to have had a pretty good handle on _your_ character.”

Dukat glared at her, and then said in his clearest, most ringing tones. “Computer, abort the self-destruct sequence. This is a priority one override, clearance level nine. Authorisation: Dukat five-one-one-six green.”

“Request denied,” the computerised voice said, and Nerys was _really_ starting to be irritated by that voice now, almost as much as by Dukat’s. “All authorisation codes are void. Time to self-destruct: twenty-five minutes.”

There was a long, awful pause, and then Dax drew in a breath.

“All right,” she said. “So that’s out. And I suppose that means Major- means our first plan is out of play as well.”

“Not necessarily,” Nerys said quickly, and turned to Dukat. “You said you received a distress call. If reinforcements were to arrive from Cardassia and re-take the station from…rioting Bajoran workers, say. Would they have the authority to end the self-destruct sequence if you had already been killed?”

Dukat huffed. “In theory,” he allowed, “But there _are_ no such reinforcements – my ship was the nearest, and even if the signal were to reach Cardassia Prime, the Central Command would hardly take any interest in Bajorans destroying themselves.”

“But if, say, we could trick the computer into believing there were…” Bashir suggested, catching Dax’s eye across the table.

“For that, you would need Central Command codes, which are one thing I am quite sure Garak has never had access to,” Dukat interrupted.

Dax gave a grudging sort of nod. “He’s right,” she said sourly. “We’re going to need a plan B. What can you tell us about the self-destruct sequence?”

“It’s very simple,” Dukat said, all condescension even at a time like this, “When the countdown is completed, the computer will order the main fusion reactor to disengage the reaction stabilisers, causing it to overload, destroying the station.”

“What about the reactor? Is there any way to shut it down?”

Dukat considered this. “It may be possible to manually disengage the laser fusion initiator, but in order to do that, we have to be in the reactor room.”

“Not necessarily,” Dax said, leaning forwards, “We can disengage the initiator from one of the control junctions on level thirty-four.”

Doctor Bashir’s mouth twisted. “But now the computer’s wiped out the access codes, not even a Cardassian can get out of this room.”

“That,” said Garak’s voice from the doorway, “Depends _entirely_ on the Cardassian. Although certainly Gul Dukat would have trouble with it.”

Every head in the room snapped around, and there Garak stood again in the doorway, looking quite revoltingly pleased with himself.

“Well?” Nerys demanded.

Garak raised his brow-ridges, “Well, what? I’ve done precisely as you requested, have I not? Legate, if you would – I fear my access code will not work for both of us.” He stepped smartly aside, and there, half-behind him on the other side of the doorway, was Tekeny Ghemor.

He looked…older, somehow, than the last time she had seen him. Thinner, and though there was no suggestion of a stoop to his upright military posture, he seemed more tired now than he had done before the trial.

“Computer, permanently disengage force-field. Access code: Ghemor nine-six-eight-four.”

The forcefield shimmered for a moment, then disappeared, and did not reappear even after Garak had followed Tekeny through. Dukat was still staring, open-mouthed, at the Legate, but Tekeny’s eyes were all for Nerys.

“You’re back,” he said, in the same odd, roughened voice he’d used with her that first day on Cardassia. “I didn’t think-” he stopped short.

“Trials work a bit differently on Bajor,” Nerys admitted, unable to help her own smile. “I – well, all right, I was always going to be found guilty, but it was decided that I'd done enough for the Resistance to earn a bit of leniency in the sentencing, so…exile, not execution.”

Tekeny nodded, some of the awful tension seeping out of his stance. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know what Bajor means to you.”

Nerys nodded, glad for once that they were in public, and could not say much more. Dukat was still glancing from her to Tekeny and back again, as if having trouble processing what he was seeing.

“Nerys, you _trust_ this traitor?”

Nerys gritted her teeth. “That’s ‘Ghemor’, to you,” she said shortly. It was the first time she’d claimed the name since it had been imposed on her at trial – Kira Nerys was dead, and the woman who had been living in her skin for the past decade could no longer be permitted to use her name. She couldn’t be Iliana Ghemor, and she couldn’t be Kira Nerys, but perhaps…perhaps there could yet be a third place to stand. “And yes, I trust him. A damn sight more than I trust you.”

Dukat raised both hands and took a step back, still wearing the same mocking smile. “Well, I suppose it’s no wonder you’ve found yourself…confused…with only traitors and exiles about you,” he said.

“I’m not _confused_ ,” Nerys snapped. “And he is _not_ a traitor!”

Dukat raised his brow-ridges. “Why else would he be exiled from Cardassia. And…” he prowled closer. “Why should you care if he _is_ a traitor? You have no loyalty to Cardassia – or so you claim.”

Dax scrubbed a hand over her face, “Sorry to interrupt this _fascinating_ round of bickering, but we have less than twenty minutes left until we all get killed so, Legate…will your codes work?”

“I can at the very least give it a try,” Tekeny said, and made for the ops table. “Garak apprised me of the situation on the way over – I am to play the role of Dukat’s reinforcements from Cardassia, is that correct?”

Dax nodded, “Yes – can you do it?”

“It isn’t beyond the wit of Cardassian,” Tekeny said wryly. “Computer – abort self-destruct sequence. Control of the station has now been regained. This is Legate Tekeny Ghemor of the Central Command, clearance level nine. Authorisation: Ghemor nine-six-eight-four green.”

Nerys waited with bated breath, but after all that it was almost a disappointment when the computerised voice sounded.

“Clearance code verified. Self-destruct disengaged.”

It was as if the whole room had been holding its breath until that moment, and only now let it out.

“Well,” Doctor Bashir said into the silence, “That was a bit anti-climactic.”

Nerys snorted. “As opposed to the whole station going up? Would that be enough of a _climax_ for you?”

“You know what I mean,” Bashir shook his head. “We should get you to the infirmary,” he added, looking over at Dax, “The longer those hands go untreated, the worse it will be.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible just yet,” Dukat put in, with an unctuous smile. “Each level of the counterinsurgency programme will need to be removed individually. And, I suppose, someone will have to go and retrieve the bodies from the ore processing facility.”

“They’d escaped, the last we heard,” Nerys snapped, “That was what set off the second level of your programme – why did you leave something like that up to an automated programme anyway? _Anything_ could have set that thing off!”

Dukat frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. “If the Bajoran workers were rioting, I was likely to be their first target. In which case I could hardly activate it myself, now, could I?”

“You had an entire station’s worth of subordinates in those days! And I suppose it was pure _accident_ the Provisional Government and Starfleet were never told about any of this?”

Dukat tipped his head back, “What else could it be? You are hardly accusing your own people of conspiring to destroy this station, surely?”

“You _aren’t_ my people,” Nerys growled, and almost regretted it when she saw Tekeny flinch, just out of the corner of her eye. “And after what you already did to u- to Bajor, I wouldn’t trust you if you said that space was black! You might not have actively conspired, but you sure as hell wouldn’t have minded if the whole station blew itself up!”

Dukat sighed in the most affectedly put-upon way Nerys had ever heard. “Why is it?” he asked, trying to take her hand and failing as Nerys jerked back with a glare, “That after…all of this-” he made a broad gesture, taking in her scaled, ridged face, Kaleen’s bracelet at her wrist, the long hair she still had not found the time to cut, “-you still have no faith in my goodwill?”

“Perhaps through knowledge of your character,” Tekeny said sharply, “And I have enough faith in my daughter’s judgement to know that this _performance_ will not avail you there.”

Dukat’s head jerked back. “ _Daughter_?” he demanded.

“I wasn’t aware Cardassian hearing was _that_ bad,” Nerys said shortly. “How many levels before the dampening field goes down and we can use the coms?”

If Dukat had been startled before, he recovered quickly. A slick, unpleasant sort of smile slid across his face. “Well,” he said. “Little Iliana Ghemor. You were just fourteen, the last time I saw you as yourself. I suppose-” he went on, before Nerys could snap that she had been no less herself during the last ten years than she was now, “That it’s no wonder you’ve been so hostile to my interest in a closer…friendship…between the two of us.”

 “Oh, believe me, that’s _far_ from the only reason,” Nerys growled.

Tekeny was still glaring at Dukat, his expression thunderous. “And quite what,” he asked, in a tone which made Nerys remember, suddenly, that he had been part of the Central Command for more than a decade, dissident or no. “Did you imagine your wife would have to say about these hopes, when she learnt of them?”

“And what concern is that of yours, _traitor_?” Dukat spat back.

Tekeny gave him a contemptuous look. “If you did not intend to keep faith with Athra, you ought never to have married her in the first place. And I got to hear enough rumours during the Occupation to warrant some concern about the nature of that _interest_.”

“If those rumours had anything to do with enslaved Bajoran comfort women and liberties taken with prisoners, they were probably right,” Nerys said shortly. “Believe me, I’m well-aware.”

Dukat almost did a double-take at that. Nerys hadn’t thought that was something people did, genuinely, but since he tried to cover it up immediately afterwards, it didn’t seem staged. “How did you come to know about-”

Nerys snorted. “What, you think you managed to keep it quiet? Everyone in Singha knew what happened to some of the women. The ones with families who were willing to buy their safety getting into bed with the enemy, usually. Or the ones who didn’t get another choice.”

They’d found a few of those, in the camps they’d liberated. Just girls, sometimes, often younger than Nerys herself. The youngest she’d known had been fifteen, collared like an animal and half-feral, still defiant after more than a year of Prophets alone knew what sort of torture. That girl, Nerys could respect. Not so the others, the ones willing to trade their bodies to the Cardassians just to buy a few years of comfort before they were inevitably discarded.

The computerised voice announced another level of counterinsurgency programme had been rolled back, and Nerys took advantage of the opportunity to try the coms again.

“Ops to Sisko. Commander, can you hear me?”

There was a faint, crackling sound, and then. “Major Kira – you’re back earlier than expected.”

“The trial’s over. I didn’t see the point in trying for an appeal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh- it’s not your fault. Self-destruct sequence has been de-activated. You’ll need to talk to Dukat about removing it properly.”

“Dukat is here?”

 “Beamed in to gloat then found he couldn’t leave because his security codes had been rescinded. Fortunately for all of us, he isn’t the only one with Cardassian security codes.”

A huff of breath. “Garak?”

“No, sir. Legate Ghemor.”

There was a very long pause, and then. “And whose idea was it to ask for the Legate’s assistance in this.”

“Mine.” Nerys’ shoulders drew back, her chin went up despite the fact she knew the commander couldn’t see her. “Sir. I did not use Starfleet or Militia resources to bring him to Ops, I gave no orders. I acted simply as a concerned civilian.”

“A concerned civilian who may have just saved this station,” Commander Sisko said, taking her quite off-guard. “I’m not reprimanding you, Nerys.”

“You’re not?” Nerys said, before she could quite stop herself. “I mean- Thank you. We’ll send someone down to let you up – the transporters aren’t back online yet.”

“You mean Lieutenant Dax will,” the commander said, not ungently. “She is the officer in command.”

Nerys scowled, furious with herself for forgetting that much. “Right- Yes. Of course. Where are you?”

The upper level of the ore processing facility, it turned out, which made it sound like a minor miracle they hadn’t been gassed. Fortunately, Dax agreed about the necessity of sending someone down to get them right away, and the coms were working well enough to requisition a couple of Odo’s deputies for the job.

When she turned back to the rest of the room, Tekeny was just finishing the last few levels and the red emergency lights were just starting to fade out again.

“Almost done?” she asked, crossing over to look at the ops table.

Tekeny nodded, glancing up from his work with a tired smile. “Yes,” he said. “I think so. There may be other elements which weren’t activated, you understand, and I expect Commander Sisko will want to speak with Dukat about how to remove the programme permanently.”

“Will I be able to leave the station if it is not?” Dukat said sourly.

Tekeny paused and then said, rather coldly. “Consider it an incentive.”

“I can handle Dukat,” Nerys muttered. “You don’t need to fight my battles for me.”

“Of course you can,” Tekeny replied, glancing at her. “I didn’t mean to insult your capabilities, but that doesn’t mean you should have to endure that sort of treatment, least of all from the likes of _Dukat_.”

Dukat gave a low, offended hiss, “If you think the good opinion of a traitor means enough to me that-”

“You responded, didn’t you?” Doctor Bashir said from across the table, sounding almost distracted. “Legate, have the forcefields around sickbay been lowered yet?”

Tekeny nodded, “I believe so – security appears to be the only separate subroutine. Now, why the security office was so vital it should be protected separately and more thoroughly even than Ops is another question again – one would think the security officers at least should have been able to move freely. Who did you _expect_ to quell any potential revolt?”

“Not Constable Odo,” Dukat said darkly.

Bashir nodded. “In that case, I’d like to get Lieutenant Dax there before her hands get any worse. Doctor’s orders,” he added sharply, when Jadzia tried to protest.

Jadzia groaned, “All right – Lieutenant Sera, you have command until Commander Sisko gets here. Try not to have to make any major decisions.”

Sera – a nervous-looking young officer that Nerys had never thought especially reliable – nodded jerkily, his eyes flickering between Dukat, Tekeny, Garak and Nerys herself as Bashir and Dax left Ops.

“Fascinating as all of this family history is, Major,” Dukat said once the two were well out of earshot, his eyes lingering on Sera for a moment as his predatory smile widened. “I’m afraid I will have to arrest Legate Ghemor, so he can return and face trial on Cardassia.”

“What- No!” Nerys glared at him. “If you try and take him back-”

Dukat spread his hands, still smiling greasily. “I’m afraid I have no choice, Major. Legate Ghemor has committed high treason against the Central Command-”

“To the Pah-wraiths with the Central Command!” Nerys snarled, gripping edge of the Ops table so hard it felt like part of it ought to snap off in her hand. “Dukat, if you don’t get off this station – alone – as soon as Sisko’s done with you-”

“And quite how do you mean to enforce that, Nerys? Bajor will hardly want to risk another conflict with Cardassia over one dissident, and one less Cardassian on Bajor is always welcome news. And certainly _you_ have no authority here any longer, _Major_.”

“Nerys,” Tekeny said in a low, warning voice. “There’s no need-”

Nerys wasn’t listening. Her fingers closed on the phaser, still lying innocently on the ops table, and she had it cocked and raised before Tekeny had even finished speaking.

“I told you,” she growled, “You’re not taking him!”

Dukat raised a brow-ridge. “Ah – lieutenant?” he asked, glancing over at Sera. “I can’t imagine it will do much for relations with Cardassia if a decorated Gul is shot dead in the middle of Ops…”

“Not if it were a Bajoran doing it,” Sera agreed, his voice admirably steady. “Since you’re both Cardassians, it’s an internal matter, and no concern of Bajor’s.”

Nerys would have scowled, but for the fact that the look of frustration on Dukat’s face made her want to fold up this moment and keep it in a pocket to look at and treasure at some point in the future, when she needed the reminder.

“An internal matter,” Dukat repeated, and tried to prowl closer, except that Nerys raised the phaser a little, and he stopped still. “Come now, Nerys. You said yourself, you have no loyalty to Cardassia. And the Legate was as involved with the Occupation as anyone else on Cardassia.”

“He’s a dissident,” Nerys said shortly. “Isn’t that why you want to arrest him? And he was against the Occupation long before that. I do remember _some_ things from before.”

Tekeny looked pained for a moment. “Nerys,” he said quietly. “It’s not worth it.”

“You know what trials on Cardassia are like!” Nerys snarled. She remembered all too well what she’d heard about O’Brien’s trial, and- Even if Iliana hadn’t watched very many growing up, she’d caught snatches, she’d known what was going on. “It’ll be execution, for sure!"

“I’m hardly agreeing to go with him,” Tekeny said reassuringly, “I haven’t entirely lost my wits yet, you know. And if the Gul can get me to leave here of my own power, I will be extremely surprised. You know I can be as stubborn as you. It runs in the family.”

“It might be possible to have you _dragged_ ,” Dukat very nearly spat at him, “I’ve enough men on my ship to ensure that, once Commander Sisko sees the sense of sending you with me.”

Nerys glared at him. “The commander’s a better man than that,” she retorted, “And even if he wasn’t-”

“What’s going on?”

It was Sisko’s voice, and there was Sisko, Nerys could see him out of the corner of her eye.

“Just an internal squabble, Commander,” Dukat said smoothly. “Nothing you should concern yourself with.”

“It’s happening in the middle of Ops and involves one of my officers. I’m already _concerned_.”

Lieutenant Sera cleared his throat. “Actually, commander, the female Cardassian isn’t-”

“The- What, so I don’t even get a _name_ now?” Nerys demanded, irrationally stung by the insult, and inched her head around to look at the commander as best she could while still keeping Dukat in her sights. “Sir – he’s threatening my- Legate Ghemor. I couldn’t-”

“I’m not _threatening_ anything, Commander,” Dukat interrupted. “But as Legate Ghemor is a Cardassian citizen-”

Sisko raised his eyebrows. “I was under the impression his citizenship was revoked when he went into exile,” he said levelly. “And certainly no-one has attempted to drag Mr Garak back to face trial.”

“A minor point of correction, Commander,” Garak interrupted. “I have already _been_ tried. This was my sentence. Legate Ghemor’s situation is rather more delicate.”

“Whose side are you on, Garak?” Nerys demanded, glaring at him.

Dukat glowered. “His own. But he’s right – Commander. You have no ties to the dissident movement, and no reason to shelter a Cardassian criminal.”

“Federation law says I can’t extradite anyone who faces execution,” Sisko said shortly. “Even if I wanted to. And Legate Ghemor seems to have just saved my entire station, which I’d say more than gives him the right to a fair hearing.”

“He’ll have one. The Cardassian legal system is the most efficient in the quadrant-”

Nerys growled, “Yes, I think we all know what _that_ means!”

“Major- Nerys,” Sisko cut her off, “Thank you for your assistance, but Ops is now closed to everyone but the senior command staff, of which you are no longer a member. Mr Garak, Legate Ghemor, please also leave us.”

“But-”

“Major. I entirely understand your concerns, and have no intention of seeing either of you returned to Cardassia. But you are also not currently a member of the command staff, and I have a few questions for Gul Dukat about this security programme that need answered before I can cancel the alert.”

She protested, because of course she did, but it didn’t seem to avail her any, and her last sight as the three of them – herself, Garak and Tekeny – were unceremoniously escorted from Ops was Dukat’s face, smirking.

Just to make matters worse, Garak was positively buoyant. If he’d looked any more self-satisfied, Nerys would have felt obliged to punch him just to stay sane.

“I don’t know what you’ve got to be so pleased about,” she growled, “If Dukat succeeds in getting y- in getting the Legate sent back to face trial-”

“On the contrary, Major,” Garak said, smiling widely. “I am quite confident that Dukat will not only fail there, but also be obliged – for diplomatic reasons – to offer Commander Sisko all assistance with the removal of this programme. In which case, Dukat is left looking very foolish indeed and the three of us – forgive me for including myself, but without my codes none of this would have been possible – are in a position to benefit greatly from his political embarrassment.”

“It was not political manoeuvring I intended,” Tekeny said sharply. “And Dukat has powerful friends. One embarrassment will not be enough to disgrace him.”

Garak shrugged. “Powerful friends have a tendency to become dangerous enemies, particularly when embarrassed.”

“Speaking from experience?” Nerys asked, raising an eyebrow- a brow-ridge.

“Why, Major,” Garak said, all innocence, putting a hand to his chest. “You flatter me.”

Nerys snorted. “Well, we don’t need you now, so why don’t you go and find Doctor Bashir or head back to your shop and leave us _alone_.”

She’d wanted to talk to – oh, Prophets, to her _father_ – almost from the moment the cell door had shut behind her on the shuttle down to Bajor. After everything she’d said to him, after everything that had happened…at first, she’d wanted nothing more than to snarl at him for- For what? For siring her at all? He hadn’t even been the one to bring her to Cardassia, or to tell her who she used to be – or had maybe always been. Who had she been, the real Kira Nerys? Had- Had any part of her survived? How much of what Entek and his men had come up with themselves bore any resemblance to the Kira Nerys that had been before? She was being stupid, this wasn’t like her- What _was_ like her? She didn’t know.

Garak smiled, “Of course. If I might make so bold, however, Major, I would suggest you avoid the Promenade. Cardassians are never precisely _popular_ , but tensions have risen since your arrest, and after the security programme was activated it may not be safe to advertise your return to the station.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Nerys growled. “But we’ll be fine.”

Garak wasn’t wrong, though. Suspicious looks were only to be expected and probably quite deserved. Nerys had no illusions there – she had been a spy for the Cardassians for ten years, and her father had not become part of the Central Command by keeping his hands clean, regardless of what his other activities might have been. The mutterings were worse – many of those they passed didn’t trouble to keep their voices down, and after the first barely-hushed sneer of ‘should have had the pair of them executed the moment they turned up’, Nerys wanted nothing more than to get Tekeny out of the Promenade and away.

“I don’t think we’re in any real danger,” her father said as they turned off towards the habitat ring. “Not from these people, anyway – they’re just frightened. And angry, some of them, but most are frightened and trying to hide it. And if you don’t think I can avoid assassination attempts after this long…”

“Frightened and angry people can be more dangerous than you give them credit for,” Nerys said shortly. “And we’ve seen Cardassians murdered before just for being here.”

“Aamin Marritza,” Tekeny said. “I know. Your doctor told me.”

That came as something of a surprise. “Doctor Bashir? Why were you talking to him?”

“Registering with medical was a requirement of my continuing to stay on the station. He was quite concerned I might become a target for retaliatory attacks if relations with Cardassia were to worsen.”

Nerys snorted. “Yeah, he’d know about that – he’s friendly with Garak.”

“I could see that,” Tekeny looked for a moment slightly thoughtful, “I suppose he has been warned of the dangers. Will you at least trust me to gauge the situation for myself? I’m hardly inexperienced in the matter.”

Nerys huffed out a sigh. “I _do_ trust you. It’s everyone else I’m worried about.”

She’d said it before she quite realised what it was she’d said. A Cardassian, and she trusted him, trusted him over her own- what she had thought were her own people. Even now, even after all that had happened, all she had learnt, that stuck in her craw. She fell silent and kept walking, trying to ignore the stares and the whispers. She’d never thought of herself as someone much bothered by what people said about her before. But then, before what people thought of her hadn’t usually been life or death. And it had been years, now, since she had had any family to worry about losing. She was out of practice at it.

“I remembered things, in prison,” she blurted out, once they were clear of the Promenade and she could breathe again. “Not everything, but- Some things.”

Nothing to tell her much about what frightened her most about the woman she had been. Childhood memories, teenage misdemeanours, tastes and scents and that odd sixth sense somewhere between the two that she had no name for, yet.

“You do? Iliana- Nerys, are you sure?”

Nerys nodded, not wanting to look at the naked hope in his face, the way his eyes shone at the thought. “I didn’t understand a lot of it, and some of it was- muddled, confused, there were things that couldn’t have-” she stopped. “But I think it was real. Some of it, anyway.” She stared fixedly ahead. “I’m not going to be Iliana again just because of a few memories,” she warned. “I can’t sculpt, and I don’t know half of this, and-”

“Nerys.” She stopped, and turned to face him. Tekeny’s expression was for once entirely open, almost soft. “Whoever you are, that is Iliana. If you never pick up a bone-carving knife again, if you never remember anything, if you choose to live out the rest of your life as Kira Nerys, that is Iliana.” He smiled, a little sadly. “I’m not the same man I was ten years ago either, you know. Or ten years before that. It’s a rare person who’s just the same at thirty as they were at nineteen, and probably not a very good one, at that.” They started walking again, and Nerys remembered that her quarters had probably been reassigned and that she’d probably be sleeping on Tekeny’s sofa until they could decide where it was they were going next – and it would be both of them, because with no role on the station and Bajor forever barred to her now, she had nowhere else that might welcome her.

“Actually, that reminds me,” Tekeny said, almost out of nowhere, “One of your vedeks – quite a young man, from what I saw – tried to send a message for you, after the news of the trial broke.”

Nerys’ heart twisted in her chest. “Bareil,” she said. “Bareil Antos. He’s- He _was_ a friend of mine.” She supposed he wasn’t now. Whatever his hopes for peace with Cardassia, peace between warring planets was a different thing to a prominent vedek continuing a relationship with a known Cardassian spy. And, in the eyes of Bajor, that was what Nerys was.

Tekeny’s eyes flicked sideways, and for a moment he seemed almost surprised. “He seemed quite concerned for your safety. And over what it was I was doing answering your subspace link.”

Nerys could just imagine how that had gone – finding strange Cardassians in a friend’s home had been a nightmare scenario during her resistance years, and even now it would be a horror any Bajoran would understand. Would it have been worse if she’d delayed enough to answer the message herself like this? Grey scales and ridges and all, hardly recognisable even to herself. She’d tried to scratch those scales off in her cell before the trial, and even now she didn’t like to look at them, or at her hands, or at any part of this body that no longer felt like hers.

“It doesn’t matter,” she forced herself to say. “I suppose you told him.”

“As much as was mine to tell, or to clarify what he had already heard or thought he knew – he was quite afraid that you had known the truth all this time.”

Nerys snorted. “If I had, would I have come back? We’d have been on the first ship to Mathenis the moment we got here if I had.”

“That would have been my plan,” Tekeny agreed, and then, hesitantly. “I suppose you do still plan on staying?”

“What- No, why would I?”

Tekeny shrugged, “You’re not without friends here. Lieutenant Dax in particular seemed quite keen to find a way to keep you as part of the command staff, and she has the commander’s support.”

“The Militia would never allow that,” Nerys said flatly.

“We shall see. In any case, we can afford to wait a little longer for you to get your bearings before a decision has to be made.”

Tekeny had, it turned out, finagled two-bedroom quarters for himself during his time on the station. Nerys didn’t know how, but would have put money on it having something to do with Commander Sisko and the hope, however faint, that she would be free and permitted to stay in Bajoran space once the trial was over and Bajor had exacted as much justice as could be had for the death of Kira Nerys, and all those whose names and faces Nerys could not begin to guess at who had died as a result of her actions. She still did not know for sure how many that had been, or whether she had passed any useful information back to Cardassia at all. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse. It felt odd, to be free to move around, to be in company again after so long – she’d been kept alone for the entire run-up to her trial, which was probably the only reason she was still alive. A Cardassian in a Bajoran prison…she would have been dead within weeks, had the verdict gone the other way. Stranger still, to be told of all that had happened in her absence, and from a source who knew only as much as any other civilian aboard the station, and considerably less than some. It was in Tekeny's quarters that Commander Sisko finally found her, half-curled on the standard-issue sofa, wrapped in an oversized half-sweater half-coat that Tekeny had lent her after she’d started shivering in the unaccustomed chill of station air.

“From what Lieutenant Dax has told me, it appears you were single-handedly responsible for keeping this station intact and out of Cardassian hands,” were the first words out of his mouth once he was inside.

Nerys shook her head. “It wasn’t that dramatic,” she said, “We- You’d have found another way if it hadn’t worked.”

“Well, we’ll never know that, will we?” Sisko paused. “Have you considered what you’re going to do next?”

“Legate Ghemor says the Mathenites would take us both,” Nerys said, avoiding his eyes. “It isn’t what I’d choose to do, but since Bajor won’t have me back and Cardassia was never an option after all they’ve done-”

“I was wondering,” the commander interrupted, “If you might consider staying.”

Nerys stared. “Stay- Commander, we both know Bajor would never-”

“Bajor has just had to acknowledge that this station was saved by your quick thinking, and that buys some leeway,” Sisko said, with a wry smile. “You would not be able to serve as part of the Bajoran Militia, it is true, but…I would be entirely within my rights to assign you a Starfleet rank as a transfer, if you wanted it.”

For a moment, Nerys almost recoiled. One thing she had never wanted or expected to be was Starfleet. Then again, she had never wanted or expected to be _Cardassian_ either, and however she felt, whatever she had been, a Cardassian was what she would be seen as for the rest of her life. There could be no escaping that. And…she did not deserve to escape it. She had come to Bajor as an enemy agent, a tool of the Occupation that had raped her planet, butchered her people, destroyed the culture she could not stop thinking of as her own. There was nothing she could ever do to make up for that, or even to begin, but- But if she had the chance to serve Bajor, even in exile…could she really throw that away?

Sisko apparently saw the resolution on her face, because he produced a PADD and handed it to her.

“You don’t need to decide anything yet,” he said, “But we’d all hate to lose you, and if Mathenis isn’t what you really want to do, there _is_ another option.”

Nerys looked at the PADD, and tapped in a few minor changes. Major Kira Nerys was dead – she had never existed. She didn’t know who the original had been, or what she had been like, and even if she did…that person could not be her.

When she handed the PADD back, Commander Sisko glanced down at it, then back at her.

“I see. Welcome to Starfleet, then, Lieutenant Ghemor.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know it's anti-climactic, but this is one episode where Nerys' new Cardassian connections might actually be able to help her, and that's going to be pretty rare. It's also the main reason why she's able to stay on the station after this point, as not even Kai Winn, when she finally makes First Minister (as she's going to, unfortunately) can really have Nerys thrown off the station when she has already played a major role in saving it. Rest assured, she'll get to play a greater role in future instalments.


End file.
